


Arthur and Merlin

by dragonheart41057



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Past Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), Previous/ongoing Morgana/Merlin relationship (casual), Slow Burn, Taking from original legend (Arthur starts a farm boy), Uther's a prick but he's still a father, title may change in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:01:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29543463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonheart41057/pseuds/dragonheart41057
Summary: It's time to go.
Relationships: Merlin & Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Kudos: 5





	Arthur and Merlin

Arthur had felt nervous calling his sister. He hadn’t talked to her in over three years, after they’d… disagreed on how to handle their father. “Pfff…” Arthur shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. He then leaned against it as a barrier between him and the cold window of the bus, looking out at the passing lamps and fields as the twilight sky darkened with his thoughts. 

Disagreement. In truth, it was more of a berating screaming match. She always berated him for not sticking up for himself with his father while simultaneously attacking him for being too selfish. As if the two had anything to do with each other? Arthur never really understood the last one, though the prior had become more than prevalent to him once Morgana had come to live with them. He saw quickly over the first few months how doting, how different their father was going to be with her. Even before they discovered they were blood-related siblings through him, he knew from then on that Morgana would be the favorite. She carried all of his attention, all of his kindness, all of his love… or at least that’s what it felt like, and yet she constantly rejected it. Made it clear she didn’t want it. That made a part of Arthur’s heart twist and writhe every time he saw it. Every time he saw her.

They hadn’t liked each other from the start, constantly squabbling with one another over everything that filled their vision. That is until their father forced them to start doing everything together, even made them share the same bathroom for a while even though their house held 5 – 2 for the public, and three for the private upstairs. Morgana seemed to hate this more than anything else, all too happy to glare at Arthur throughout her entire nighttime routine before scurrying back to her own room with the speed of a caged animal. Arthur was surprised they hadn’t blown up the whole damn house with how often their tempers would flair with one another. Then, a few weeks in things started to change. They became more… quietly tolerant of each other once they realized Uther wasn’t going to change his mind. Then, they began to talk. First smally, then about things they needed to do like homework, fencing practice, etc. Then they actually started to get along when they realized they liked similar things. They became… peaceful of one another. Which is all Uther wanted them to be, but then as the years went on they became much more. They were always siblings and always would be, even when they didn’t know they were, but it was only when they divulged some of their secrets that they truly began to feel like brother and sister.

It started small, with things like the old swords Morgana would steel from their father’s collection. She eventually brought one to him, the one with a brilliantly carved golden hilt he always eyed in their training room, but his father never let him touch. She stole it in part to in some way defy or anger Uther, while also bringing them closer so they could train together more aggressively when he wasn’t around. A smile pulled at his lips as he remembered her ecstatically glowing green eyes, she wanted to fight so badly, and wanted him to be a part of it. Fight with her as well as against her, so they both would be better. He loved her for that thievery now, even though then he was terrified. Arthur begged her to put it back fearing of the consequences his father would bring upon them. She didn’t like that, even took insult to it, forcing him to put it back himself if he was so keen on ‘always following daddy’s orders.’ Arthur had no choice but to quickly sneak into the training room and slip it back that afternoon before his father returned home… but, when he returned to Morgana later that night and she refused to speak to him, he presented her with a different sword which _he_ had stolen. One that actually fit his size, and that they could use without his father’s knowledge. He wouldn’t even miss it – not like he would miss the golden one Arthur had named Excalibur. He placed a hand instinctively to his waist – he wished he had it now.

To this day, Arthur couldn’t tell if she had looked to him that night impressed, or just barely relieved. Her face was hard to crack once she was angry, even if her anger had begun to cool, but eventually as their kinship grew, he figured out how to crack a smile or two on her face. Light jabs at her style, her temper, her future, her gender, which she would return unto him in kind. That was part of the fun they had, their give and take. What also made her laugh was ways in which he managed to make a fool of himself, though those times were less fun for him. He would always find a way to get back up and challenge her again, this time with a better angle, a stronger attack, a sneakier move forward or sideways, it was a part of the thrill-seeking dance they played with each other. Eventually they grew to become good friends. So good that when Morgana’s nightmares first began, Arthur was the one she came to.

At first, she just seemed to need talking to in the middle of the night. She’d say she couldn’t sleep because she was bored, or hungry, or something of that mundane nature and that she just needed him to occupy the time or give her company. “Clearly I’m desperate.” She’d say in an off the cuff tone that always made him peer to her insulted. Nevertheless, after the first few nights it happened, he began to do as she asked, especially as with each passing night she seemed to look to him with not just desperation but… also fear. He wouldn’t know what was really going on ‘till far later, when the nightmares became so awful, he was woken by her screaming in the middle of the night. He’d jumped out of his bed and rushed down the hall, opening her door mere seconds before she was about to do the same.

Arthur would never forget her face. The sheer terror that stretched across her white-striken flesh, the fear that seemed to escape only through her trembling veins, but most of all he would remember the deep swallowing sorrow of her green eyes now turned red. Overflowing tears threatened to drown those eyes, not even the admittance of his own name could keep him from going to her.

“Arthur…” the word itself seemed to bring the smallest of comforts, but that only made her cry more. His rush to hold her only delayed it. She seemed to not do anything for a while, remaining stiff and unsure when Arthur hugged her, but regardless he didn’t let her go. Then her arms lowered, her breath hitched, and she began to cry again. She hugged Arthur as tight as she could, taking comfort in his unrelenting force and warmth. That was the first time he’d ever hugged her. Uther came in due time to see what the ruckus was from and ruined the moment before it could move on naturally. Morgana quickly pushed herself from Arthur’s grip on the floor at the sound of his voice. She’d knocked him on his rear, and by the time Uther had come was smiling brightly, though her tears were still falling. The pain was still there, Arthur could see it in her eyes.

Uther had doted on her without a second glance at Arthur that whole night. Not that Arthur had minded this time, as his mind was prioritizing the same thing – the health and safety of Morgana. However, it seemed Morgana didn’t want anything from anyone. She insisted it was only a particularly intense nightmare, that she’d be fine in the morning. Sure enough, that morning she was… better, but Arthur knew then that it wasn’t as particular as she made it seem. This was why she was waking him late at night, and as she glanced away from Uther assuring her everything would be alright, she could tell Arthur knew it too. She didn’t like that. That’s why he never told her that he’d spent the rest of that night sleeping on the floor outside of her door.

The next day she treated him as she usually did, flippantly and with disregard for any emotional consequences. In fact, she seemed to become harsher with her words, slashing at him for things he didn’t even do in earnest, as if he’d done some great wrong to her. It was like that for several days, and she didn’t come to him in the middle of the night for a whole week after. She began to not even talk to him unless she was slighting him. For a while, it didn’t bother him. For a while he could see it as her just trying to defend herself. For a while, he could take it… then came the dinner. One dinner… he couldn’t even remember exactly what she’d said now. The contrast of a now darkened sky amongst city lights was distracting him, or perhaps he just couldn’t remember because he’d never wanted to.

It wasn’t a pleasant memory. Morgana and his father, coming at him from both sides. They’d gotten into one of their many fights, this one about some medicine Uther wanted her to take to help her sleep. Arthur wasn’t paying attention, usually they had the decency to keep him out of such discussions, and with the way Morgana was treating him recently he figured she wanted him out of her business and far, far away. Then they turned it all on him, Morgana insisting that if Arthur had a nightmare or two Uther wouldn’t be worrying so heavily about him. Insisting that this was because he was a male, and not because Uther just liked her best. That’s what Arthur believed.

Uther insisted he would take the same care for Arthur’s health as he did for Morgana’s – he didn’t. Not in that way. Sure, he knocked Arthur upside the head whenever he decided to do something dangerous, punishing him severely if he ever got in harms way, but if Arthur were to come to him about a nightmare… well when he was young and first came to live with Uther, he would talk him through it. Help him understand it wasn’t real, and that things may be strange now, but everything was going to be alright eventually. That he was strong, even royal, with a dragon curled up deep inside him that was just waiting to fly amongst the stars and rule like the sun. He’d always loved his father for doing that. Always loved the idea of being related to a royal dragon.

Now of course, he’d be looked at with incredulous eyes which said, “Can you really not deal with this on your own?” Uther expected more of Arthur. Niether Morgana or he knew the real reason why, but they had their theories, and Morgana _loved_ to share hers.

That night she shared them in full force too. He couldn’t remember the details, but it was something to the way of him being spoiled, ungrateful, lazy and weak willed. And with widened eyes Arthur remembered what she’d said.

_“Ever since I came here you’ve been nothing but a patsy, a fool! A lazy, lilly-livered louse who could never say no to his daddy’s shadow! Not that I should be surprised from the likes of a spoiled little worm like you.”_

She’d said this only seconds after his father had berated him for not having an opinion. He didn’t know anything about medicine, or Morgana’s health, how should he know what would help her? Uther had taken this as weakness though, and chided him for being so insolent and useless, especially when discussing his own sister’s health – though he hadn’t told them that at the time. Technically he never did. They had to figure that out for themselves.

Arthur’s blood had already been heating from Morgana’s constant lashing out, and it turned to a strong simmer once his father’s words of anger and disappointment rang yet again through his ears and straight into his heart. Then Morgana had to speak and gave the final blow to cut deep in his heart. He boiled over. He stood and glared at both of them in a way that seemed to physically move them both back in their chairs. He let them have it. He let them all have it. His father. Morgana. Even the servant that had the misfortune of walking in right at the moment Arthur had excused himself and stormed off. He didn’t remember what he’d said. Only that he’d left his father’s eyes shocked, and Morgana’s tearing, not that he even cared anymore. He was done. He was done with them both.

He’d stormed off to join his friends Elyan and Gwen that night, wandering around the backwoods and countryside of the town they lived in when they weren’t traveling with their father. Arthur couldn’t quite isolate that night from most of the nights they’d gone out exploring and riding together. He just knew that they were his friends – _his friends ­­_ – and only his. He was happy that night that he’d never introduced Gwen to Morgana. He wanted to have something, someone that he could still go to and feel himself. He smiled at the memory of Gwen’s smile and hair in the moonlight. She was always so beautiful, and she only grew more so with every passing year. Arthur sighed sadly, wishing he’d taken the time to say goodbye to her, but he had to get out. For good.

When he’d returned that night, he’d found his father waiting for him. An unusual sight, as he’d never been one to wait up for Arthur to return from his galivants, though this one it seemed was different.

“Arthur.” Arthur remembered; his father had said his name so softly… like it was something precious. Something he didn’t want to break. It was enough to make him stop in his tracks. He went on to further stupefy Arthur by apologizing. Uther Pendragon _never_ apologized.

He considered it a fool’s gambit, one in which the apologizer was always certain to lose. Apparently, the events of that night were enough to convince him that he’d already been lost. In that moment, it was enough for Arthur. Not just the apology, but the words of encouragement and pride that came with it. Uther told Arthur then that he never meant to hurt him, never meant to make him feel useless, or weak… he wanted him to be strong. To be the strongest of them all, especially in a world where everyone thought they could take the easy way out through magic. He wanted Arthur to live strong principles, and a confident pride in himself and his name. Pride enough to be sure everywhere he went, people would know to follow him.

Arthur had believed his father’s words that night. Had taken them into his heart with comfort, and great pride. Now… even the thought of his father’s hand on his shoulder made him quiver and shake with an unbridled anger he could never escape. He wondered if this was how Morgana felt, or had felt, all the time.

She’d spoken to him next that night. She’d spent several hours in the hall outside his room in her satin dressing gown, waiting for him. Her hair was wet. So were her eyes. Arthur didn’t notice until she’d called out his name again to stop him from entering his room. This time it was said with desperate urgency, wilting confidence, and a pain Arthur just wanted to cut away. Try as he might, Morgana’s pain would never escape him. He didn’t turn toward her, just kept staring at his hand on the doorknob. They stood in silence like that for a long time. Morgana seemed to be waiting for him to say something. He didn’t. Though his father’s words had hurt, she had hurt him the most that night.

Eventually she spoke. She too apologized, at first trying to say she was only pretending to think those things about him in front of Uther so she could get what she wanted from him. Arthur turned the doorknob at that. “Wait!” She cried in response. He did, and she went on further to say that maybe she was also trying to get back at him for seeing her the way he did that night. Weak, defenseless, and alone. Maybe she wanted him to feel that way too.

“I’ve felt that since the day I came here.” He’d replied. “Believe it or not Morgana, you’re not so special.” He opened the door at that and a hand shot out to land on his own.

“Arthur please,” Her voice was soft, fragile, desperate again. He didn’t want to look at her, he didn’t want to see or hear her for the rest of the night… but something in him wavered. And that something made him turn to look into her eyes… he was glad he did. Her eyes glazed with tears, sorrow, and deep, deep regret said everything. They told him everything he needed to hear. Her breath tapered at his softening gaze and she tried to look away but couldn’t. “Arthur.” She cried softly again, as she had the night before, and the two of them fell into a hug with one another. This time Morgana knew what to do, and she freed herself to cry in front of him. Freed herself to take comfort in another human being. Freed herself to be loved again.

And love in return.

That was his last night of freedom from Morgana. They were practically inseparable for a while, Morgana telling him all about her dreams. How they’d grown to be prophetic, that she could tell the future with them, but only when it was bad futures. Bad futures she wanted to change, and every chance they got they would try. Arthur may have been raised to dislike magic by Uther, but no matter what he tried to real into Arthur’s head he could never be blindly afraid of it. He knew better than that. And besides, what harm could a little prophetic telling be? Especially if they were doing good with it, given he could keep Morgana from trying to use it to cheat on tests. 

By fifteen Arthur had introduced her to his friends Gwen, Elyan and Leon. He should have taken time to say goodbye to Leon too. The five of them were inseparable around town, though soon it seemed Gwen and Morgana had grown closer than Arthur and she had ever been. Arthur felt jealous at the thought, he liked Gwen, and continued to like her for a long time afterward… but in the end, it was Gwen’s choice. And Gwen had taken a great liking to Morgana. One he wished she’d taken to him beyond their one kiss in the moonlight and stolen touches and glances whenever she was over to help her mother clean the house.

Then again, in the end not even Morgana could keep Gwen, because the final fight she’d had with their father was too much to make Morgana stay. The final fight that he had semi-supported his father in. The final fight where she discovered she had magic, strong magic, more magic than just prophetic dreams… and neither he nor Uther took it well, though Uther even less so. He’d regretted the things he said to her that night as soon as he’d said them, even though his voice seemed kind and thoughtful, the words coming through it were just… they weren’t right. He couldn’t put together why at the time, but they just didn’t feel right. At first, he thought it was because he just wasn’t explaining himself well, he had been rather frightened by the infernos she made burn from the dining room candles. Then he thought it was because he was just getting his beliefs confused, not thinking straight, which wasn’t entirely wrong. Then… then he came to now. And now… he just knew he was flat out wrong. Plain and simple. Everything he’d ever been taught was wrong, a lie, a deceit to cover his father’s own conscience. It was all wrong.

Bitterness burned through his eyes and tongue. Why couldn’t he have had a normal family? Why couldn’t he have just continued living on the farm with his Aunt? Where he belonged… why couldn’t he have never been born to Uther Pendragon.

The bus lights flicked on and Arthur was taken out of his head, bleary-eyed and groaning as his irises adjusted to the sudden and drastic shift in light.

“Now arriving at Grand Central Station, Avalon.” A voice overhead sounded. Arthur quickly pulled at the rail and the bus came to a gradual stop. Turns out he hadn’t needed to pull it anyways because it was a required stop – the end of the line. There was officially no turning back for him. He exhaled a deep sigh as chills squirmed in his stomach and radiated over his entire body. Others passed by him as he leaned against the window in his seat. He didn’t know if he could do this, if he could face Morgana again, if he could…

Arthur let out a shaky breath and shook his head, closing his eyes and letting his chin drop. _Now’s not the time for doubt._ He thought to himself. _Now’s the time to act. Just unfurl, and put one foot in front of the other._ He imagined that dragon inside of him uncurling from it’s tail and spreading out it’s wings. The straighter the dragon sat, the straighter Arthur became, until finally he was sitting tall and was able to exhale smoothly out. He nodded firmly and opened his eyes.

Arthur grabbed his backpack and satchel from the compartment above his head and walked down the bus aisle. This was it. Time to pace on. _Keep moving, and you’ll be where you need to be._ A voice inside him sounded. Arthur smiled smally as a part of him believed it was the dragon.

He looked to the bus driver and gave a grateful nod, “Thank you very much.” He told her.

“No problem.” She sounded as he sauntered down the steps, still keeping eye contact with her. He made it one step on the concrete before hearing her voice.

“Nice to see you can still be polite.” Arthur froze momentarily, slowly rising his head until Morgana’s lightly smirking face was right in front of him. For what seemed like several minutes, she was the only thing he could see. Her guarded smirk slowly fell as she met his gaze and kept it. It was the same tug they’d felt when she’d apologized to him for being so cruel with her eyes. Now, it was his turn.

“Morgana…” He finally said, his soft and quaked. He didn’t mean to sound so quiver some, he didn’t want her to feel sorry for him even as the tears burned at his eyes. He didn’t deserve it. To her though, in that moment, that instant… it didn’t seem to matter what he deserved. Her eyes became vulnerable and reached out to his. Soon they were together again, and she was hugging him with all her might. He hugged her back all the more. “I’m so sorry Morgana.” He cried to her, fighting the tears with every breath. He took a final, deep one in as he held her. “I’m so sorry.” He said, shaking his head lightly on her shoulder. It took a while, but eventually Morgana spoke to him, soft and gentle.

“I know.” 


End file.
